Cats!

Arthur's tried again replacing the old candles with the new ones. He chanted again desperately,

"I pray for the power of the dark night.

 I pray for the power of the mystery.

 I pray for the Goddess's loving grace.

I seek the blessings of concealment to help me stay lucid during the dream investigation!

Herbs in the draught, please pass my supplication to the goddess!"

The silence in the room was too loud.

He sat on the edge of his bed, hands clenched into fists, the sweat on his palms smudging against the worn fabric of his trousers. He had waited and waited until the hour had passed, then another, and another still. No answer.

A hollow feeling cracked open in his chest.

It started as a thrum behind his ribs, like something struggling to escape. His breath caught. He tried to inhale through his nose, steady and deep like he'd been told once, but the air wouldn't go down, it stuck in his throat, thick and sharp as glass. His heart thudded against his sternum, faster with each second, until it was pounding like fists on a door that would never open.

His fingers twitched. Then his arms. Then his whole body.

His vision disfigured, as if he were looking through a fisheye lens.The walls of the room leaned in, closer than before. The ceiling was too low. Too low. If he stood up straight, it would crush him. He crouched instinctively, as if ducking might buy him more air, more seconds. But the walls only leaned closer, indifferent.

His lungs gave up pretending to breathe properly. He gasped now, short, broken pulls of air that barely scraped the edge of survival. His skin tingled, cold and hot all at once. He whispered the chant again. Once. Twice. A third time, barely a sound.

Nothing.

A sob burst from him, raw and involuntary. His body was no longer his own; it trembled violently, head to toe, as if fear had stripped every muscle bare. A sound escaped his throat half-sob, half-choke. His body shook, trembling in waves. He pressed his forehead to his knees and tried to count, to think, to breathe, but the numbers slid away like sand, and the breath wouldn't come.

His heart still thundered, his chest rising in frantic, shallow bursts. But beneath the panic, something else began to press through, the desperate need to survive this moment. To claw his way back to something steady.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

It's okay, he told himself. I still have my other method.

The floor. The floor beneath him was solid, cool against his palms. He pressed his hands flat against it, grounding himself in its stillness. It wasn't moving. The room wasn't moving. That part was in his head. He repeated it silently, over and over, until the words started to make a little sense.

Focus on one thing, think about cats, he told himself getting up from the ground making his way to his bed after putting out the candles and dismantling them.

He pictured the tabby from the alley behind the bakery, always lounging in the sun, smug as a king. He thought of its blinking yellow eyes, slow and unconcerned. Of how it never flinched when people passed. Just flicked its tail and went on existing like the world couldn't touch it.

He imagined its weight on his lap. The warmth. The sound of purring, soft and steady, like water on stones.

As he was doing this someone entered his room, but Arthus was too focused to notice it. He suddenly fell on the bed, his back touching the fine lace, embroidered sheets sound asleep.

"He looks gorgeous even when crying" commented Mara to Roland.

Roland just stared at Elias who was sitting on a chair in the room, seemingly unconscious.

…

Arthus dreamed of a cat, not the tabby cat he imagined, but a black cat with cold blue eyes. It sat on the ground just staring at him. This went on for a while until something happened. What normal human being could control his dream? 

He stepped closer. The hallway stretched on forever, lit by a flickering yellow light that buzzed like it was trying to speak. The wallpaper peeled in strips like dead skin. The floor creaked beneath his feet, soft as cartilage. He didn't notice a dark figure at the edge of his dream, witnessing everything.

The cat tilted its head. The motion was wrong, jerky, human, as if it had too many joints in its neck. It opened its mouth, but no sound came. Only a low, wet rattling, like breath passing through something rotten.

Then its body began to shift.

It didn't melt, it peeled. Skin sloughed off like a soaked garment. Bones cracked outward with slick, elastic pops. Legs lengthened. Front paws split at the ends, claws fusing into warped, knuckle-like fingers. The tail retracted in a twitching jerk, vanishing into the folding mass of meat that used to be its spine.

He wanted to scream. His mouth wouldn't open.

The face was the last to change. The cat's eyes remained those same blue, dead shards floating now in a face that was almost human but too smooth, too stretched. Its skin was pale and thin, drawn taut over a skull that hadn't decided what shape to take. Teeth pushed through its lips, too many, too sharp, like a smile cut from glass.

The thing stood upright, staggering forward on broken legs that reknit with every step.

Then it spoke, using the voice of his secretary Elira Vayne.

"Hello Master Arthus"

He backed away, but the hallway twisted, longer now. The walls pulsed with each heartbeat. The air turned thick, metallic, reeking of blood and wet fur.

She reached for him, her arm closing in on him.

Something resembling a hand brushed his cheek, claws barely grazing skin and he felt every nerve flare, like they were being rewired.

Just as he was about to scream, he suddenly found himself sitting on a table eating a meal in silence with Elias and the company.

…

"That ring. What are we going to do about it? We know it's a sealed artifact. Shouldn't he be dealing with a negative downside?" asked Mara.

"The downside could be something minor, especially if it was crafted by someone skilled. As for dealing with it, we are still waiting for the dummy ring to arrive to replace it" replied Roland.

"How romantic! You want to wear his ring, as a symbol of your love for him!" teased Mara again.

"Quiet! Captain Elias is still in process of interrogating him" replied Roland in a stern reprimanding tone.

This time Mara stayed quiet.

…

In the dreamland, Elias stopped eating and finally started questioning Arthus.

"What really happened in that alley?

"I was attacked by my secretary, she wanted me to join the Demoness sect but when I refused, she tried to kill me by burning me alive with black flames"

Stated Arthus in a saddened expression.

"How did you survive that?!" asked Elias in a shocked expression.

"I don't know, after she burned me and left, I just woke up without any injuries. I don't remember much about it" replied Arthus in a puzzled manner.

Elias was stunned for a good while after hearing this. Then he made a guess. It should be that sealed artifact. He knew that certain sealed artifacts had abilities to prevent fatal injuries and some even protected attacks aimed at the soul! How else could he explain this phenomenon otherwise? Then he brought his attention to the mention of the Demoness sect but recovered soon and asked.

"Why did you refuse?"

"She told me that at sequence 7 of the assassin pathway, I would be transformed into a woman! Literally! She even showed me proof of how she was a man before and now he was a she! She tried to convince me that it was a good thing. I was shocked and disgusted, so I refused"

Said Arthus with disgust and contempt.

This time Elias was even more stunned. A potion that changes your gender? Is that even possible? No he couldn't be lying in his dream. He recovered himself again and asked.

"Are you a beyonder from the assassin pathway?"

"No"

Replied Arthus.

Elias nodded in relief and asked again to confirm.

"Are you a beyonder?"

"No I'm not" stated Arthus.

Elias was confused, was Nachthelm really just a normal citizen who found out about beyonders from Elira Vayne? No he must have some beyonder background. His parents must have been beyonders. Otherwise how could he end up with that ring he claims was his mother's memento?

"Did you know about the beyonder world prior to your secretary telling you about it?" asked Elias.

"No, I didn't" replied Arthus.

"Do you know how your mother came into possession of that ring?" asked Elias.

"I don't know" replied Arthus.

I guess he really was just an unlucky victim in this case. Thought Elias to himself. Best to ask for more information on Elira Vayne then.

"Did you notice anything strange about your secretary?" asked Elias.

"Something strange? Hmm, I do remember her talking into mirrors? I don't know if she did anything strange other than that? Perhaps her habit of always wearing her gloves? Yes she mentioned she did that because of her special condition. I didn't ask her about it" stated Arthus.

Elias already knew about that from the formal statement that Arthus gave at the police station. I guess it's time to wrap things up. He mentally made a note of all the things said and left the dream.

He woke up in the real world and gestured for Mara and Roland to leave the room. Once outside he briefed them about the situation.

"So we are wiping his memory of this incident? Since he's not a beyonder?" asked Mara.

"Yes, that is the standard protocol. It's for his own good" replied Elias.

"We will soon have the counterfeit ring to replace the sealed artifact. He doesn't seem to know about its effects. We need it analysed by an Artisan from the Church of Steam and Machinary. After that exchange we will remove his memories of this incident for good" said Elias again.

"Captain! What rank do you think is that sealed artifact?" asked Mara excitedly.

"We'll see after its abilities and effects are revealed, now go back to patrolling" ordered Elias.

"Yes sir!" replied Mara.

Roland just nodded.

…

Arthus slept soundly and peacefully. He dreamed of being surrounded by countless little kittens and woke up refreshed next morning, unaware of the events that transpired last night.